CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.
"By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, Caesar Commanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway.
The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinder At first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness; But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, bound By ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers, Then, melted the snows! And soon torrents newborn, from the heights of The mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandment Grow rigid, and, turn into ice, in their headlong rush downwards! Now, that which rushed madly a moment before, must be hacked through! But now, it was treacherous, baffling their steps and their footing Deceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion.
And see! Now the clouds, by an icy gale smitten, their burden Discharge! Lo! the gusts of the whirlwind swirl fiercely about them; The sky in convulsions, with swollen hail buffets them sorely.
Already the clouds themselves rupture and smother their weapons, An avalanche icy roars down like a billow of ocean; Earth lay overwhelmed by the drifts of the snow and the planets Of heaven are blotted from sight; overwhelmed are the rivers That cling to their banks, but unconquered is Caesar! His javelin He leans on and scrunches with firm step a passage the bristling Grim ice fields across! As, spurred on by the lust, of adventure Amphitryon's offspring came striding the Caucasus slopes down; Or Jupiter's menacing mien as, from lofty Olympus He leaped, the doomed giants to crush and to scatter their weapons.
While Caesar in anger the swelling peaks treads down, winged rumor In terror flies forth and on beating wings seeks the high summit Of Palatine tall: every image she rocks with her message Announcing this thunderbolt Roman! Already, the ocean Is tossing his fleets! Now his cavalry, reeking with German Gore, pours from the Alps! Slaughter, bloodshed, and weapons The red panorama of war is unrolled to their vision! By terror their hearts are divided: two counsels perplex them! One chooses by land to seek flight: to another, the water Appeals, and the sea than his own land is safer! Another Will stand to his arms and advantage extort from Fate's mandate.
The depth of their fear marks the length of their flight! In confusion The people itself--shameful spectacle--driven by terror Is led to abandon the city.

Rome glories in fleeing! The Quirites from battle blench! Cowed by the breath of a rumor Relinquished their firesides to mourning! One citizen, palsied With terror, his children embraces: another, his penates Conceals in his bosom; then, weeping, takes leave of his threshold And slaughters the distant invader--with curses! Their spouses Some clasp to their sorrow-wracked bosoms! Youths carry their fathers Bowed down with old age, uninured to the bearing of burdens.
They seize what they dread to lose most.

Inexperience drags all Its chattels to camp and to battle: as, when powerful Auster Piles up the churned waters and tumbles them: never a yard-arm Nor rudder to answer the hand, here, one fashions a life-raft Of pine planks, another steers into some bay on a lee shore, Another will crack on and run from the gale and to Fortune Trust all! But why sorrow for trifles?
The consuls, with Pompey The Great--he, the terror of Pontus, of savage Hydaspes Explorer, the reef that wrecked pirates, caused Jove to turn livid, When thrice was a triumph decreed him, whom Pontus' vexed water And pacified billows of Bosphorus worshipped! Disgraceful their Flight! Title and glory forsaking! Now Fortune capricious Looks down on the back of great Pompey retreating in terror!".